‘Well!’ said I, taking a bit of a breath, ‘upon my word, though, I should not have thought he had it in him! Yes, yonder’s a remedy,’ I continued, nodding in the direction of the forecastle, ‘to correspond with Wilfrid’s intentions if he’s fortunate enough to fall in with the “Shark.” Will _she_ be armed, I wonder? It would then make the oddest of all peppering matches.’ ‘If the yacht escapes us, we are certain to meet with her at the Cape,’ said Miss Jennings. It was idle to argue on matters of seamanship with the pretty creature. ‘Wilfrid has said little on the subject to me,’ I remarked. ‘He was dreadfully overcome when he called to ask me to accompany him. But it is good and brave of you to enter upon this wild experiment with a womanly and a sisterly hope of courting the fugitive back to her right and only resting-place. My cousin will receive her, then?’ ‘He means to come between her and the consequences of her--of her folly,’ said she, colouring again with a flash in her eye and a steady confrontment of me, ‘let the course he may afterwards make up his mind to pursue be what it will.’ I saw both distress and a little hint of temper in her face, and changed the subject. ‘Have you been long in England?’ ‘I arrived three months ago at Sherburne Abbey’ (my cousin’s seat in the North). ‘You know I am an Australian?’ ‘Yes, but not through Wilfrid, of whose marriage I should have learned nothing but for hearing it talked about one day in a club. A young baronet who had met Lady Monson was loud in her praises. He described her as a wonderfully beautiful woman, but dark, with fiery Spanish eyes and raven tresses’; and here I peeped at her own soft violet stars and sunny hair. ‘Yes, she is beautiful, Mr. Monson,’ she answered sadly, ‘too beautiful indeed. Her face has proved a fatal gift to her. What madness!’ she exclaimed, whispering her words almost. ‘And never was there a more devoted husband than Wilfrid. And her baby--the little lamb! Oh, how could she do it! how could she do it!’ ‘With whom has the child been placed?’ said I. ‘With a cousin--Mrs. Trevor.’ ‘Oh, I know, a dear good creature; the bairn will be in excellent hands.’ ‘Sir Wilfrid was too affectionate, Mr. Monson. You know,’ she continued, looking at me sideways, her face very grave, ‘if you have ceased to love or to like a person, your aversion will grow in proportion as he grows fond of you. It is not true, Mr. Monson, that love begets love. No; if it were true, my sister would be the happiest of women.’ ‘Have you met Colonel Hope-Kennedy?’ ‘Oh yes, often and often. He was a very constant visitor at Sherburne Abbey.’ ‘Pretty good-looking?’ ‘Tall, very gentlemanly, not by any means handsome to my taste, but I have no doubt many women would think him so.’ ‘The name is familiar to me, but I never met the man. Did he live in the North?’ ‘No; whenever he came to Sherburne Abbey he was your cousin’s guest.’